Chapter 2- Too good to be true

She wasn’t expecting anything.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

But there it was.

A message from a number she hadn’t saved.

Unknown Number — 8:12 AM

Good morning, Amara. I hope you slept well.

She stared at the screen.

Then she read it again.

It was ridiculous how something so simple could make her pause. A good morning text. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing that deserved the attention she was giving it.

Still, she smiled.

And immediately stopped herself.

“Girl, get yourself together,” she whispered.

She placed her phone on the nightstand and climbed out of bed. She had things to do, a full day ahead of her, and absolutely no reason to be smiling over a man she’d spoken to for less than ten minutes.

Her phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number

It’s Zayden, by the way. In case you were wondering.

Amara laughed quietly.

Amara: I figured.

Zayden: Good. I was hoping you wouldn’t delete my number.

Amara: I haven’t saved it.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Zayden: That’s unfortunate. I was hoping to make a better impression.

She shook her head, smiling despite herself.

Amara: You seem very confident.

Zayden: I usually am.

Amara: I noticed.

Zayden: Have breakfast yet?

Amara glanced at the time.

Amara: Not yet.

Zayden: Then go eat something. Have a good day, Amara.

She looked at the message for a moment.

No pressure. No demand for her attention. No attempt to keep the conversation going when she clearly had somewhere to be.

It was refreshing.

And that was exactly what made her nervous.

⸻

By 9:30, Amara was dressed and ready to leave.

She wore cream-colored trousers, a fitted white blouse, delicate gold jewelry, and nude heels. Her long dark hair fell in soft waves down her back. She checked her appearance in the mirror, grabbed her handbag, and headed downstairs.

Her phone rang just as she reached the front door.

Maya Thompson.

Amara answered.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Don’t good morning me. Where have you been?”

“Getting ready.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Amara laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“Yesterday. You disappeared after lunch. Then you ignored my calls.”

“I didn’t ignore you. I was busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“Living my life, Maya.”

“Okay, and who is this man?”

Amara stopped walking.

“What man?”

Maya gasped dramatically. “Oh, so there is a man.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“Amara Bennett, don’t play with me. I know that voice.”

“What voice?”

“The voice you get when something is happening and you don’t want to tell me.”

Amara sighed and unlocked her car.

“His name is Zayden.”

There was silence.

Then Maya spoke.

“Zayden?”

“Yes.”

“Just Zayden?”

“Do you want his birth certificate?”

“Don’t get smart with me. Who is he?”

Amara got into the driver’s seat.

“He’s someone I met yesterday.”

“Where?”

“At Maison Laurent.”

“Wait. The restaurant?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

Maya laughed.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Amara started the engine.

“He gave me his number. That’s it.”

“And you texted him?”

“He texted me first.”

“OH.”

“Maya.”

“What? I’m happy!”

“There’s nothing to be happy about.”

“Girl, let me enjoy this. When was the last time you actually entertained a man?”

“I entertain men.”

“Being polite to the cashier doesn’t count.”

Amara burst out laughing.

“You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.”

Amara pulled out of the driveway.

“I don’t know him, Maya. I’m not trying to get excited about somebody I just met.”

For once, Maya’s voice softened.

“I know. I’m not asking you to fall in love tomorrow. I’m just saying you can get to know somebody without assuming they’re going to hurt you.”

Amara didn’t answer immediately.

Because Maya knew her.

She knew how difficult it was for Amara to let people close. She knew how often Amara dismissed affection, questioned compliments, and convinced herself that people were only being kind because they wanted something.

“I’ll be fine,” Amara finally said.

“I know you will. Just don’t close the door before someone even gets the chance to knock.”

⸻

Across Manhattan, Zayden Moreau was having a considerably less peaceful morning.

His office occupied the top three floors of Moreau International Group’s headquarters. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, while dark marble, warm lighting, and carefully selected artwork gave the space an understated luxury.

Zayden sat behind his desk in a charcoal suit, a black shirt, and a silver watch. His bleached blonde curls were neatly styled, and the tattoos on his hands were visible as he reviewed a stack of documents.

Sebastian Cole walked into the office without knocking.

“You’re in a good mood.”

Zayden didn’t look up.

“Am I?”

“Unfortunately, yes. It’s disturbing.”

“Do you have a reason for being in my office?”

Sebastian dropped into the chair opposite him.

“Actually, I do. Your father called.”

That got Zayden’s attention.

“What does he want?”

“Dinner this Friday. Apparently, it’s important.”

“Everything is important to that man.”

Sebastian grinned.

“Maybe he wants to discuss your future.”

“My future is doing perfectly well without his involvement.”

“Maybe he wants grandchildren.”

Zayden gave him a flat look.

“Get out.”

Sebastian laughed.

“Fine. But before I leave, I have one question.”

“What?”

“Who is she?”

Zayden leaned back.

“Who?”

“The woman you’ve been staring at your phone for the last fifteen minutes.”

“I haven’t.”

“You absolutely have.”

Zayden picked up his coffee.

“Her name is Amara.”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows.

“Amara?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting. And what exactly is Amara?”

“Someone I met.”

“At a restaurant?”

Zayden looked at him.

“How do you know that?”

“Because you haven’t mentioned a woman in months, and now you’re smiling at your phone like a teenager.”

“I’m not smiling.”

“You’re right. You’re grinning.”

Zayden shook his head.